


The Valeton University Pie Appreciation Club

by Josephinemarche (Amodelofefficiency)



Category: Classic Alice (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Happy Pi Day!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amodelofefficiency/pseuds/Josephinemarche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Valeton University Pie Appreciation Club met on Wednesdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valeton University Pie Appreciation Club

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pi Day! 
> 
> This was actually my contribution to the Literary Web Series Secret Santa over on tumblr, but I thought it was appropriate to post today.

[Cara's Pie Playlist can be found here.](https://8tracks.com/amodelofefficiency/a-pie-playlist)

* * *

 

 

The Valeton University Pie Appreciation Club met on Wednesdays.

It wasn’t an official student organization. Unlike the Chess Club or the Debaters Association or even the Darcy Appreciation Club that Alice had eyed warily on her first day at Valeton, Pie Club had never been approved by the student body nor advertised by over enthusiastic RAs.

It was a private group; an elite selection of pie lovers who met regularly to eat, admire and discuss the merits of strawberry, blueberry and key lime creations – at least that’s how Cara had described it after half a bottle of wine.

In reality the club consisted of three members and Andrew, who only attended meetings when he was lured into the kitchen by the promise of fresh baked goods. They never invited other people to join them, never thought about moving beyond Alice and Cara’s living room space. In the early days there had been dreams of expanding the club’s activities to dabble in some pie related poetry recitals, or a pie eating contest (Andrew’s one contribution) or even an end of semester bake off, though the latter had been cancelled when it became clear that Alice would win by default – she was the only one in the club who was allowed unsupervised access to the oven and stove.  

In the end the club was simple; Alice, Cara and Lily met every Wednesday afternoon and devoured slices of pie.

“We do other things,” Cara had once protested, fork raised to her lips between bites of apple and cinnamon dusted pastry. Her smile had been wide and crumbly, evidently proud of her wit, “We don’t meet to eat pie – we eat pie _because_ we meet.”

Andrew had let out sigh, “You live together,” he’d muttered from his spot on the floor, leaning back against the sofa and throwing tiny paper balls into an empty mug sitting on the corner of the table, “You don’t need an excuse to _meet_. You definitely don’t need an excuse to eat together.”

Cara had patted his curls awkwardly, shaking his shoulder with her other hand to emphasize her point, “Oh Prichard, you wouldn’t understand, you poor, lonely child. Did they have pie in your lonely childhood mansion? Or was that not fancy enough. Fancy pie for fancy baby Prichard –“

“What? I don’t – do you even listen to what you’re saying?”

—-

Despite the club’s meager beginnings and its 3.5 members (3.14 when Cara was in charge, despite Andrew’s protests that he was definitely more than 0.14% of a man), Wednesday afternoon pie had become such a tradition in Cara and Alice’s living room that even Nathan had begun expecting desserts to be provided on the rare occasion that he was present. It was a comfort to the three girls - no matter how intense their final exams were the following week, how difficult the music recital, how tangled in metaphors the short story or complex the math, the reality of pie remained constant.

For Cara the club represented all her favorite things in life - time with those she loved, dessert, the opportunity for mathematical puns and witticisms, sugar and pastry, endless innuendos that had Alice blushing in seconds and Lily cackling into her shoulder, and food.

So much food. 

She’d made the mistake of jokingly mentioning one day that Alice could open a bakery if her writing was never published, and while Alice had all but lunged for the butter knife resting by the sink Lily had loudly intervened and explained that obviously Cara was referring to some strange alternate universe where they were all different - Lily had been a detective, Cara an astronaut, and Prichard had been the overconfident but hollow businessman who turned into a fumbling mess whenever he bought coffee and cupcakes from his favorite redhead, and who ended up leaving the family business in a blaze of sudden enlightenment to go work the counter of the cafe.

Her _Pie Playlist,_ compiled late one night when she was supposed to be studying for finals but was instead trawling through Buzzfeed and reorganizing her music for the fifteenth time, was one of the highlights of her late night rapid fire playlist project. She’d made Alice listen to it on repeat in the lead up to Thanksgiving - “American Pie” was now banned in the apartment and Lily had been horrified to learn that Destiny’s Child’s “Apple Pie A La Mode” hadn’t been included.

For the Valeton University Pie Appreciation Club, whose Secretary insisted that minutes be taken at each meeting so they could be organized into Pie Charts (the snickers had lasted at least a week), things only hiccuped on the rare occasion that Alice wasn’t available to make homemade desserts and Lily’s attempts to forcibly restrain Cara from entering the kitchen were bribed away with kisses and the promise that she could control the music in the car.

Cara and kitchen utensils were a recipe that only ever ended in fire alarms, not freshly baked goodness, but Lily liked the way she would start humming “Wild Honey Pie” around the same time the first smudges of flour started dotting her cheeks, and music privilege was sacred in their relationship.

The kitchen would survive.

 

* * *

 

On one such Wednesday the sky was dark by three and rain shattered against the windows in angry bursts. Alice was curled up in bed with Jonathan Swift, the two of them working to defeat a lingering cold that had been tickling her throat since the previous Monday and Cara had quietly collected all the bowls and utensils in the kitchen that could possible be needed to make frozen Oreo pie. If all ran according to schedule Lily would be arriving shortly with the premade pie crust and Alice would be distracted long enough that Cara could mix together the vanilla and oreo filling and stash it in the freezer.

“I don’t even have to bake it!” she whispered in delight as Lily slipped in through the front door.  

“You say that like it will stop you from destroying it,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of Cara’s mouth and quirking an eyebrow 

“O ye of little faith. Hush. I’ve been preparing, can’t you hear? Paul McCartney will guide me through.”

Lily paused at the bench, fingers drumming along the countertop before she turned sharply to face Cara, “You do realize this song has nothing to do with pie?” she asked, corner of her mouth crinkling into a smile as Cara inched towards her. “In fact none of your pie playlist has anything to do with actual pie - _and don’t you dare waggle your eyebrows at me._ I refuse to enter this discussion again.”

Cara laughed in delight and slipped an arm around her waist, spinning into the kitchen, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Everything here is magical and pure. Pie is magical.”

 “ _Of course_.”

 

* * *

 

Four hours and two pie related emergencies that Lily was still having trouble understanding later and the frozen Oreo pie (“Frozen because it goes in the freezer, not because it’s necessary to sing “Let it go” while mixing.” “You don’t get to control me heathen.”) was chilling in the freezer.

There was a knock at the door and then the steady thump of boots down the hallway that normally meant Andrew - he was the only person they knew who entered without an invitation but still felt the need to knock.

“Hey, Alice around?” he asked moments later, glancing around the quiet living room where Cara and Lily were sat before looking into the kitchen. There were stacks of bowls and plates and spoons in the sink that told a tale more akin to a banquet, not a simple no bake recipe, but he took it all in stride. His boots were off and sitting in their usual place in the corner of their tiny foyer - an innocuous, familiar gesture that had Cara burrowing her head against Lily’s shoulder, irrationally annoyed all of a sudden that Andrew and Alice hadn’t figured anything out.

Pie Club would be a lot better without the underlying sexual tension adding so many layers to the innuendo Cara liked to throw around on Wednesday afternoons.

“Rackham has a date,” she explained cryptically, watching him tense, “She and Jonathan are curled beneath the covers in her room if you want to take a look.”

There was a pause, and then Andrew frowned at her,  “I only fell for that once.”

He stood awkwardly in the corner of the living room, glancing every so often towards Alice’s bedroom door. “Is she okay? She’s been…off lately. Ever since we went bowling. And then…” 

His words trailed off, as if Cara might not know everything that had transpired recently. She felt the tips of Lily’s fingers press into her side, a subtle warning to be gentle - teasing was fun up until the emotion turned raw. “I think she’s just worried,” she finally settled on saying, “things have been tense - you know. The project, McDouche, her writing.”

“Her writing? I thought - I mean. She sent me a couple of drafts. They were good.” 

“Yeah?”

There had been a time when Cara couldn’t wade across their dorm room for fear of treading on drafts that Alice and Andrew had scribbled over. Andrew’s comments were mostly question marks and smiley faces, but Alice would write tiny scrawled notes in the margins and watch him with her lip between her teeth as he read through her work. Nowadays the apartment was still covered in loose sheets of paper - but Alice’s words were sometimes cautious; careful in a way that she’d never been before.

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel better?” Lily asked finally, gaze held on Andrew’s troubled face. He began to shuffle slightly, awkwardly pulling at the hem of his shirt before sighing loud and quick.

“Can I do something?” he offered, attempting to sound casual.

“Take her something yummy - something book themed and yummy! She’ll love that,” Cara immediately announced, pushing towards him with a little too much enthusiasm.

Lily tucked a hand against the curve of Cara’s neck and rubbed softly, trying not to sound condescending. “ _Nothing_ you just said made sense.”

“Excuse me,” objected Cara, reaching over towards the table where slices of frozen pie were beginning to melt on the plate. “Meet Edgar Allan Pie, see how his manpain is causing pudding tears to swirl and drip? She’ll love that,” she announced, laughing at her own joke before pausing a moment to glance between the two, “Get it? You do get it, right? Don’t be silent! That was funny.”

“ _Really_? No, Cara.” Lily hid her face behind her hand, “And you can’t name things you’re about to eat - that’s the first rule, surely.”

But Cara scoffed, “That’s only fish – and chicken. And ducks? Not pie. It’s not like the pie can complain,” and picking up the plate she waved it around in front of them, putting on a voice that Lily assumed was an attempt at sounding warm and delicious.

“Ohhhh no. _Don’t eat me good kind sir_. I have to get back to my strawberry pie wife and caramel pudding children. I lived a good life! _Noooooooooo_ -”

“Guys?”

Cara all but dropped the plate, spinning quickly to find Alice in pajamas and messy pigtails, half leaning against the door-frame with her book tucked to her chest. Her gaze shifted immediately to Lily, “You let her bake?”

“No ovens were touched. Promise. Only the freezer. And…it’s edible?”

“No kitchens were harmed in the making of this pie-y goodness. Scouts honor,” Cara vowed. She stuck her fingers up in the Vulcan salute and Alice scoffed, stepping forwards to bat at her hand.

“You’re a terrible scout. But a decent frozen pie maker - maybe. And a good roomfriend.” Cara beamed and squeezed Alice’s hand in her own.

“So Prichard is here - don’t know why. Sometimes I think he forgets where he lives,” she announced after a moment. She swung Alice’s hand in her own and smiled at her, “You okay? You look like you’re about to collapse - you want anything? Tea? Pie? Mac and cheese?”

“She’s mother hen,” Lily muttered, and Alice laughed, bright but congested.   

She coughed suddenly, grumbling about sore throats and noses and Cara caught a glance at Andrew - his eyes tight and his fist clenched. She recognized that look; it was the same she wore when Lily refused to let her cuddle her when she was ill. It hurt to watch one another; but hurt more to experience. This tug of war between her friends was pulling tighter but the tension didn’t demand a happy ending - they were just as likely to break. It scared her sometimes, the thought that their small world might fracture. But it was ripping them apart at the seams with or without action.

“I worry,” Cara explained, brushing it aside for now. “We worry.”

“Yeah Rackham, if you get sick what hope do the rest of us mere mortals have?”

Alice glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but her face was soft - she was growing, Cara recognized. Slowly she was opening up.

“I think…I think I’ll just go back to bed,” she finally murmured, smiling softly and hugging the book back to her chest. “Thank you though,” and she spun with a quick glance at Andrew before disappearing back towards her room. Andrew knocked a socked foot against the edge of the table and purposefully looked anywhere but at the door.

“Save us all the despondent sighs and take her a slice of pie, Prichard,” Lily muttered. She pushed a plate into his hand and nudged him towards Alice’s door before he could protest. He paused, hesitant, but with a slight knock against the wooden frame and the soft call of Alice’s name he nudged at the door and slipped in to her bedroom.

“I have pie,” Cara heard him chuckle, and then the door softly closed.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Cara whispered after a minute. “Films, books? They’re undying love for each other?”

Lily snorted, bumping her shoulder against Cara’s before steering her back to the couch. “Don’t know. Don’t care. As long as they’re talking I’m happy,” she smiled.

Cara sighed gently. Another day they could discuss everything else.

“Pie, Lily. It’s magic. I told you.”


End file.
